A colleague of mine posted a comment on her Facebook page about seeing the face of Jesus in the faces of the people who surround us. I'm not completely sure what she means by that, even though I agree with the statement on it's face (you should excuse the pun). I've always understood that this phrase refers to the need to treat the people with whom we come into contact every day as if they were, in fact, Jesus. "Whatsoever you do for one of these, you do also for me" is the scriptural foundation for the idea. It's not so much a matter of "WWJD" as it is about "what would I do/say if this was Jesus with whom I am interacting". That has to give pause to anyone who professes to be Christian.
When you think about Jesus as a human being, you begin to demythologize the divinity almost immediately. A few years ago, I read Christopher Moore's book, "Lamb: The Gospel According To Biff" which takes an absurdist look at the life of Jesus between the time of his visit to the temple at twelve, and the emergence of his ministry at around age thirty. I can't, in good conscience, recommend the book because it is EXTREMELY irreverent, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. What it did was push me once again to look at the humanity of Jesus. Not only the obvious things like appearance, voice, and mannerisms but the less obvious things that make us all human. Imagining Jesus in the bathroom, for instance, is a "demythologizing moment", if I can coin a phrase.
The scripture, at least as filtered through the lens of the early church, assures us that Jesus was indeed human AND divine. As a human being, he had a navel, was circumcised, breast fed, and probably fell and skinned his knees a couple of times. As a divine being, he had insight into human frailties, behahaviour, and that realm of the Spirit that is closed to other human beings. Balancing the two has never presented a major problem for me until I consider the impact of "doing onto others" as I would do unto Jesus.
The key passage is found in Matthew 25:31-46. When we see those in need and give them assistance, we are to do that as if we were doing it for Jesus himself. However, the truth is that people's needs are not usually as simple as those listed. Some people are mentally ill. Some people are so damaged that they are dangerous to even those who want to reach out to be helpful. Some people are users. Some people are broken. Some people could absorb all of the help that the wealth of an entire nation could provide and still would want more. How do we protect ourselves and still remain faithful to our impulse to treat them as we would treat Jesus? There's no easy answer, of course, because there never are for complicated questions. Do you pick up the hitchhiker with the blood on his shirt and assume that he had a bloody nose? Do you engage the rioter in an assessment of their lack of self-esteem? Do you allow the spousal abuser or child molester to continue doing so while in therapy?
As human as Jesus could have been, he was neither a murderer, abuser, rioter or molester. He was not deranged or badly damaged or severely handicapped. He was, we imagine, an exemplary human being with all his faculties intact and his personality that of the gentlest and most compassionate person that we have ever encountered. We continue to believe this despite the fact that he frequently was provoked to anger, dealt severely with those whom he deemed to be unjust, and in at least one case withered an unsuspecting tree for not bearing fruit when he wanted it. Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, was never a faithful image from scripture. The Jesus of the gospels was, in fact, demanding, confrontational, challenging, and occasionally had a pretty barbed tongue. In other words, he was very human.
It's easy to talk about establishing and respecting boundaries and of doing justice and loving mercy. However, when I look into this passage from Matthew, I find that Jesus not only referred to a very clear boundary but also banished those who didn't meet the criteria. Many in the church are fond of saying that Jesus was inclusive. When I look at what he did and said, I see someone who required that the people of whom he was inclusive must be willing to commit themselves to his teaching. It's true enough that he didn't pay much attention to wealth, status, or gender and was even willing to minister to those who did not share the Jewish faith. It seems to me that there is a level of exclusivity in everything he did. Unless a person was willing to put their faith in him, he could be indifferent or even nasty. He certainly hated hypocrisy and self-indulgence and nothing is more hypocrital or self-indulgent than making Jesus over in our own image.
There are times when I get angry at God. There are times when I have cursed the day I was born and there were even times when I considered ending my own life. There were times when I challenged God to prove his existence and there were times when I even denied that God did exist. How very human of me! I firmly believe in justice, mercy, love and compassion as a way of life. I also firmly believe in protecting myself and society from any kind of threat. I am in awe of those who simply reach out regardless of the potential consequences to anyone in need. My hat is off to Mother Teresa. There is something very Zen about the way she approached her calling, even though it was rooted deeply in Christian faith. Maybe I just haven't reached that plane of existence, that age of Spirit, that sustained her. I do believe that every face is the face of Jesus in some regard and to some degree, in that every face is human. Even some of the non-human ones. I believe that it is my calling to do what I can, when I can, for those who look into my face for a trace of compassion. Thankfully, a big part of my belief system is based on the idea of forgiveness of sins for without that, my limited ability to love would surely have me excluded from the kingdom of God and the fellowship of Christ.
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